Manifest Of The Phantoms Fasade

Impaled raider-angels chestA battered sculpture here manifestsWoe - Begone soulsCrowd the world in under ArcaneAs a horde yet kept asuder ProfaneCruel defected angelsEnsnared in sweet raptureYet cursing and rejecting their sinsDescending steep stairsOf black frosty stoneApproaching the vaultOf the ones assumed condonedFrom the walls grabble clawsOf a voracious kindLasvicious gods laughterResounds in the halls like thunderDraw the sabre offered to you fromThe scabbard in the phantoms globed handAnd chop away Feel free from graceBlistering dead mist looms up fromThe phosphorous wells like acid steamNoxious gas invades the weak thingsOf the damned as they crowdThemselves stairwardBut held down by the sabre-Wielding lordsTake the meat-dish offered to you andThe goblet from the phantoms gloved handSink your teeth into the flesh of your preyYou have given reinTo your malicious waysMangeled and tornHangs the torso with angelwingsAmongst my gates ebony xylographyNo crawling backFrom underworld purgatoryTo heavens filled with hypocrisyTake the banner handed to you andThe dagger from the phantoms gloved handTo lead the way